Who I Am
by Iris Violetta
Summary: Beatrice is a girl with secrets. Secrets she keeps and secrets she wishes she knew. Like her family and the organization she is unwillingly part of. Not Lemony's Beatrice. R&R please.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!!! Author's Pathetic Note: Yes, I know... I shouldn't post anything. I haven't continued Kitty. I haven't done much with my hoping to be posted Peter Pan story. But, ohhh.... I must post this. I know it's short. THERE WILL BE MORE!!!! Just don't expect anything from me tomorrow... and if I do update then, just don't think it'll always be that way. Now just read the story......  
  
Prologue  
  
My name is Beatrice Forling. It wasn't always Beatrice Forling. Before, it was Beatrice-- well, I really can't tell you. You'll just have to be satisfied with what I'm currently known as. My first fourteen years have been a bit strange. Of course, for anyone on the outside, it's so creepy that they would want ship me off to an asylum straight away. I wouldn't be the first.  
  
I'm not sure I should quite explain it all. You see, I was raised in the way of secrecy-- who to trust, who not to trust. I was raised to learn codes and secret locations. And I was raised to learn the true history-- the one only the people on our side know. We are not the evil ones, as they claim. We are doing what should be done. We are living how we should live. And we are just expressing our love... of fire. That's what they told me. But I am not a believer. I have doubted every single word they have said. And I will get out once I safely can. But then where will I go? Would I ever be accepted? It's simple for someone raised good to turn bad, but what about those reared in the pits of flames, who will now embrace goodness? 


	2. Chapter One

Note from the Author: Wow, I'm updating already! This is amazing improvement for me! I'm staring to get people's hopes up. Yeah, right... Um... there hasn't been any reviews yet, so I can't reply to them, but the story's been up for only a couple of hours. heehee I probably should have said this in the prologue, but this is sort of like Beatrice's journal or something. I think that will clear up some confusion, if there is any. So, without any further ado...  
  
Chapter One  
  
I will now take the time to talk about my parents. However, it won't be the usual thankfulness for the clothing and the feeding, although they have given me that. In fact, they have given me many things, but they are all to benefit themselves. No, I will not be thanking them. Instead I will ramble about my confusion of our little family. Oh, what a family it is....  
  
I have a father and a mother. Well, of course everyone has one at some point in their life. My mother... Mrs. Forling. At least, that's what they tell me. What a woman...  
  
I was raised by her, but I know she's not my mother. I don't resemble her at all. I don't have her hair, straighter than a stick, and so light she could be a blonde, though she insists she's a brunette. I don't have her long ears, with which she seems to hear almost everything. I don't have her mouth, which is so wide, with lips that were thin before she began visits with a certain doctor. I don't have her dimples, which irritate me so. They're like little potholes that appear every time she smiles, which is often.  
  
I will never be as tall as she is, even without her stilettos. She wears them constantly, probably so she can look at my father's face without straining her neck. My father is very, very tall. I won't have her chest, so very large, yet completely natural. I don't have her short fingers. And my feet aren't as arched as hers. Of course, the stilettos may have something to do with that.  
  
My hair is dark, so dark it's sometimes mistaken for black. My ears are tiny, although everyone seems to notice them. My mouth is small, and my lips are nicely sized. I'm short, not so short that it's noticeable, but short all the same. My chest is small, not flat, but small. My fingers are long and slender, but not bony, like my father's. My feet are a little flat, but not too badly. My eyes are a misty grey, while my mother's are a brilliant blue, and my father's a light hazel.  
  
I am different from her in other ways, too. I know I'm smarter than she is. Also, I'm better mannered, and quieter. And I do not share her obsession. I could not care less about what is in and what is out. No, I am in no way Esme's daughter.  
  
And it's the same way with her husband. You wouldn't know that he was my father and I would doubt it myself, but for one thing: my nose. It's large and crooked, exactly like his. It's my least favorite part of myself. I'm not sure if that's because it's so amazingly ugly, or that it's what connects me to Olaf.  
  
So there they are... my parents. Daddy and the great pretender. Now I mustn't forget about the more pleasant part of our unit; Ollie.  
  
I'm the only one who calls him that, because I refuse to call him Olaf. He's nothing like his father. Yes, he's my brother. He's only just nine months younger than me, and he was born three weeks early. I'm amazed that we're so close in age. Olaf must have wanted a lot of children. Actually, that's what I used to think. Now I know the real reason for it. Olaf had wanted a son. I'm surprised they didn't kill me like some other countries do, but I suppose Esme wanted a pretty pet to play with. Lucky me.  
  
Like me, Ollie's mother is not Esme. He looks very similar to me, save a few things. He got Olaf's height. He's always been taller than me, ever since I was three and he was two. And he's got this little turned up nose. It's very cute, and obviously neither Olaf's nor Esme's. I envy him sometimes. But only for his nose. He is Olaf's son. He's expected to take the place of his father someday. I'm only expected to follow in Esme's footsteps, and produce grandchildren. How thankful I am that Ollie shares my views of the world we live in. Olaf's little world, that is. He also wants to escape with me.  
  
We have our plan. When I am eighteen, and expected to join the organization as a full member, Ollie and I will leave. Ollie says he can do without his last year of high school for a while. Then we plan to search for our mother. Somehow she got out. I'm sure she didn't die. Somehow I just know it.  
  
I wish I knew who she was. I have only one clue. When I was nine, Ollie and I were playing hide-and-seek. While I was in the hall closet, I came upon some old shoe boxes. My curiosity overtaking me, I opened them to find some old photographs. Most of them are boring, pictures of members, people acting in plays and backstage, a bald man with a long nose standing next to a sad pair of twins, Olaf and Esme... But there was one that really caught my eye. On the back of it is written, "Feb. 2002." I would have just turned one, and Ollie would be five months. In the picture there are associates of Olaf, people I recognize. Esme's in it. I think Olaf might be taking it. They're all laughing in the living room of our old house and holding up their wine glasses, which have probably been refilled many times. But in the background there is someone who is not smiling like she's had eight glasses of wine. It looks like she's trying to pick some of the garbage up. She's wearing a white dress, with short sleeves, that goes to her knees. It looks more like a nightdress. It's one of the few clean things in the room. Her back is to the camera, but she's turned to glance at the lens. She has Ollie in one arm; his face is just visible over her shoulder. She looks exactly like me, except with Ollie's nose. She looks like she's only two years older than I am now. Her hair is messy, and it seems that she was trying to keep it up with a ribbon, but the ribbon is failing. But what really strikes me is how sad she looks.  
  
Why is she there? What is she doing with Olaf's troupe? Why is she so sad? And who is she, besides my mother?  
  
Another Note from the Author: Well, I hoped you enjoyed it. If you want to take the time to make someone happy, just press that button down there and tell me how you feel about it. Gracias! 


	3. Chapter Two

Author's Note: Wow, here I am, updating already! It's a miracle! I wasn't sure if I was going to so fast, but then I got a review! Yay! Review! And now I can reply to the review! Yay! Reply to review! This makes me just so happy.  
  
o0wallpaper0o- my dearest first reviewer... My gratitude to you is so much that I hope you are not frightened by it. I was very excited to get it, and from an author no less! I've read some of your stuff, and have enjoyed it. Thank you!  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Tomorrow is the first day of school. My first day of high school. Ninth grade at last. Ollie will be in eighth. We're pretty lucky that I was born in December and he was born in the following September, because if it was a little earlier, we might have been in the same grade. That would be very embarrassing.  
  
I'm pretty nervous, though. I was in our middle school for only a year. We had moved here when I was in seventh grade. I didn't have much chance of fitting in, especially because it was a small school. Now I'm going to the huge public high, where there will be lots of people. I'll have better luck finding friends. It's been hard for me, with moving, my nose, and the fact that Olaf won't let me bring people over. He's afraid someone will "discover" us. Pretty soon, people got tired of only hanging out at their house, so they stopped calling me. Hopefully now I'll find someone who doesn't care.  
  
In order to do that I need to make a good first impression. I'm finally taking Esme's advice to act confident, since confidence has been "in for years!" She gave me some "in" clothes, but I prefer my old cotton to spandex. Also, I don't think these kids have the same idea of "in" as Esme. I picked out an outfit that looks pretty good on me, and now I'm trying to find something to do with my hair. I tried it down, but it's not cooperating. I tried it up, but it needs something. Looking in my drawer, I find the perfect thing: a purple ribbon. As soon as it's in, I tear it out. It looked perfect on me, but then I remembered. I'm not supposed to wear ribbons.  
  
When I was seven, Olaf once sent me to put something in the attic. While I was up there, my curiosity taking hold of me as it often does, I opened an unmarked box. Inside there were some old dusty clothes. I pulled them out to see them better, and down feel a ribbon. It was a dark purple, and I thought it was the prettiest thing. I had seen other girls wear ribbons in their hair, and I wanted to try it. I walked over to a mirror that was propped against a wall, and attempted to tie a bow. It took me a few tries, but I finally got it. It looked like it belonged around my hair, and I rushed downstairs to show it to everyone. Once I got to the kitchen, I lightly stepped in, acting like I hadn't noticed the hair accessory. When no one looked at me, I gave a small cough. Olaf turned and froze. His eyes widened and he looked almost frightened. It was the one time I ever saw him do that. Esme turned also, and once she saw me paused in horror. Then she screeched and grabbed at my head, ripping the material from my hair. I was confused and simply stood there, ready to cry. She yelled at me, "I don't ever want to see that in your hair again! EVER!"  
  
"Why not?" I whimpered.  
  
Her eyes flashing, she glared at me and harshly whispered, "Ribbons have been out for YEARS!"  
  
Then she roughly walked past me out the door. Olaf was still staring at me, but he soon regained his composure and frowned. Walking up to me, he said, "You are never allowed in the attic again."  
  
Once he had left I started to cry. What had I done? I had no idea. Later I found the ribbon lying in the fireplace. I took it to my room, where I hid it. Looking back to that day, I still don't know what was wrong. But I know it was something bigger than what was in or out. Olaf had cared. Olaf has never liked Esme's obsession. So why had he then? Another mystery.  
  
I guess I'll just put an elastic in my hair tomorrow. I don't want to risk Olaf and Esme's wrath again. I'm sure they'll be mad that I kept it. I mustn't let them find out.  
  
Giving up on my looks, I walk downstairs to get a snack. Halfway down the steps I suddenly wish I had stayed in my room. George is here tonight. George is Olaf's oldest associate. He's usually never here, but at "the office," where Olaf spends much of his time. I don't like any of Olaf's associates, but I detest George the most. This is because he scares me. Every time he looks at me, which is rarely, he gives a terrifying smile and comments on my "pretty face." If Olaf is present to this he glares at him at barks for him to get to work. Also, George seems to hate to say my name. He always says, "my pretty," like the witch in that one movie. One time I asked him why, and he said, "Because Beatrice is a horrid name." The way he said was like he had to force it out, and he was cross the rest of his visit. Another mystery.  
  
But those aren't the only frightening ways of George. The last one is physical. The hooks that he uses as hands are pretty scary.  
  
I try to run away before he notices me, but he hears and yells up, "Where are you going, my dear? Come down so I can see that pretty face."  
  
I just keep going up to my room, and as I go I can hear Olaf shouting for him to come to the living room. There is no way I am going to spend time with George.  
  
Author's Note: Another chapter done! And so quick, too! For the next, I request one review, because if I know that even one person is reading this, then I have someone to write for. I don't want to write this for myself. So please press that little button down there. Thanks a bunch! 


	4. Chapter Three

Today was the best day of my life! Now, I know that sounds cliched, but it really was. Of course, it's not too hard to do that, there's not much competition in the contest of best day.

I managed to avoid Olaf and Esme this morning, by sneaking out the kitchen, where Esme hasn't entered since we moved here, nor any kitchen since I was eight. I told Yolanda I was leaving, and knew she would pass on the message. Have I mentioned Yolanda yet? I don't believe I have. Yolanda is our housekeeper / Esme's slave. After some years, Esme decided that she simply would not do any housework any longer. She was "sick and tired of it," and it was "as out as can be." She told Olaf that she wanted a servant. I remember listening at the door of their room.

"I know I've asked you this before, Olaf, but I cannot take it anymore!" came Esme's voice, a pleading sound in it.

"Esme, you ask this every year, and the answer remains the same: we can't afford it," went Olaf's stern voice.

"Well, that's another broken promise."

"What?"

"You promised! You promised me that I could have all the help I wanted! You promised me that I could have anything I desired! You promised me that we would be rich!" Esme began to sound a bit hysterical.

"WELL, WE AREN'T! I WAS WRONG! IT DIDN'T WORK!" Olaf shouted, making me jump. It was so deafening I'm sure the neighbors heard it. Obviously, Esme had hit a sore spot. "Fine-- fine. We'll get someone. Someone cheap."

At this point I left the door, my ears ringing. Just as he said, Olaf hired Yolanda. She's pretty nice, but I pity her. Having to wait on Esme, do all of her work, it must be torture.

Anyway, on to more pleasant things. I got to school, and managed to find my locker. It opened just fine, and I put a few things in. I closed it, turned, and leaned against my locker, reading my schedule for today. While I did that, I began a favorite hobby of mine, people-watching. The freshman hallway is kind of secluded from the others, but my own locker is at the end, so I see sophomores, too. It was fun for a while, but then I began to notice that people were giving me weird stares. Suddenly I heard some one shout, "Odie! Hey, Odie! What are you doing in the frosh hallway?!"

I looked around to see who Odie was, but only to see the guy standing in front of me. He looked surprised, and then said, "Uh, sorry, I thought you were someone else."

I was a little disturbed but then went back to my schedule. A minute later someone began to open the locker next to me. Deciding to be friendly, I turned to say hi. Instead of speaking, I just let my mouth hang open. He was so hot. He was tall. He had light blonde hair that kind of stuck out everywhere, but in a really cute way. He had the most gorgeous blue eyes. Then I realized that he too was staring at me, but in horror. I began blushing like mad, and started to say something, but he shook himself and said, "Sorry, you scared me, that's all. "

This felt a little like an insult, and I wondered if my nose was to blame. I frowned and was about to have a comeback when he began again, "No! I don't mean it like that! It's only, you look almost exactly like my sister."

"I do?" I wondered if his sister might be the mysterious Odie.

"Yes, except she has green eyes, and a different nose."

"Oh. What's her name?"

"Odie. She's a junior."

"Odie? That's a different name."

"Well, it's only her nickname. It's comes from our last name, O'Dell."

What a beautiful last name. "That's a nice name. What's your first?"

"Mitch." Mitch O'Dell. How amazing.

"Wow. But you don't look anything like me. I mean, your sister."

"Well, she's adopted. Ever since we were toddlers."

"Oh, I see. Why do you call her Odie, if you have the same last name?"

"Well, she insists on it. She doesn't like to be called by her real name."

"What's that?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he laughed.

"Sorry."

"No, it's all right. Her name is Sunny."

"Oh."

Author's Note: Dun dun dun. Well, I hoped you enjoyed this. Now to reply to my review.

o0wallpaper0o- Thanks again! I have noticed that lack of reviews. But thank you so much for letting me know that someone is reading this. I'm glad you like this.

I hope other follow in o0wallpaper0o's footsteps and leave a review. If not, well, then leave.


	5. Chapter Four

Author's Note: Wow, it's been a long while. I have many excuses, but I don't want to bore you with them. Hope you enjoy this.

Disclaimer: If you recognize anything in here, I don't own it.

My morning classes are kind of a blur now, but I do remember going to Algebra, Intro to Chem, American Government, and Gym/Health, though perhaps not in that order. All I do remember is standing at my locker, pulling out books, and then suddenly I hear someone next to me say, "Hey Garf."

"Garf?"

"Yeah, you know, like that cat that Odie hangs out with."

"Are you calling me a fat, lazy cat?"

"No! It's just, you remind me of Odie, so... I'm calling you Garfield." Clever, he's so clever. But wait. . . I remind him of his sister? What?! Grr. . .

"Okay then. . ."

I ate lunch with a girl named Sarah Glassman, and her friends Hannah and Mary. They were really nice, and I think we have a great chance of becoming friends. Then I went to English and Spanish. They were okay, but not too exciting. My last class was Art. There my day took an interesting twist.

When I got there, there were already three people sitting in some orange chairs. There was a guy with really light blond hair, whose name was John. Apparently, he raises buffalo at his farm. Next to him was a shorter guy with longer, dark blond/brown hair, whose name was Isaac. And next to Isaac was a girl with long, brown hair named Katharine. She seemed really nice. They acted really weird around each other, and I had this sudden flash of them being a threesome. But my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an "Oh my god!"

To this I turned and saw... myself. Well, almost. Different eyes, different nose. I was scared for a moment, but then realized. . . could it be. . .?

"Holy crap!" I was shaken from my deep thoughts by my reflection's sudden exclamation. She looked shocked for a second, but then grabbed my arm, dragged me to a corner, and shooed away her friends. Then she looked at me again, her eyes moving rapidly, and she seemed to be examining me. Finally, she emitted a low whisper.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Bea, who are you?"

"You can call me Odie." _Yes! I've found her._

"You're Odie?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, nothing, just . . . my locker's next to your brother's and. . . he said we looked alike." _Duh, Bea._

"Really? I didn't notice."

"Well.. so what? A lot of people look alike." _Yes, Bea, they do. But wait, don't give up! This might be a clue._

"Yeah, except you look almost exactly like my sister, who I haven't seen since she was your age." _WHAT???!!! She has a sister? A sister? My mother?_

"When was that?"_ I have to know.. god, I have to know._

"Fifteen years ago." _Yes! That'd be it. It's just gotta, oh god, please._

"What wa--" As the question was only halfway out, the bell rang. Darn that bell!! Odie looked up at the clock, then glanced at me. Then she softly, but decidedly said,

"Meet me at the middle door after school. You're coming to my house." And then she sat down.

I slowly walked back to my seat, anticipation washing over me. Today could be the day. Today I could learn the truth. And then another thought came to me: I'm going to Mitch's house.

Author's Note: Again, sorry for the long wait. But this was worth it, right? Okay, lack of agreement is saddening. Whatever...

By the way, John and Isaac and Katharine are all real people, who should really be a threesome. The Aranquists will happen. Yeah, sorry for sounding like a psycho, but it's one of my friend Sara's deepest obsessions. Haha.. If you want to read more about them, their stpry will be put up at under my name there: Wilted Iris. However, their names may be changed.

Well, please review. Even if you think this sucks.. then I will know how my audience is liking it, and if I wish to continue. Thanks!


End file.
